The Massachusetts Yankee in Queen Henrietta's Court
by IAmTotallyOriginal
Summary: (AKA MYHC) Life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness, the most basic of human rights...none are the common man allowed. This oppression will not go unpunished.
1. In which a Yankee is summoned

**Story's Beta-reader:** **gabrielchiong11** (go give them some love!)

* * *

 **6/6/1944 Operation: D-Day, Earth.**

* * *

Clouds silently watched from their safety in the sky…for the U.S landing crafts were nearing their destinations. By now the Germans had noticed their advance and had open fire upon the American aircraft had finally shown up, and they flew towards the Drop Zone (DZ) filled with impatient paratroopers. The sight saddened the clouds, and soon they began to cry, for the death to come was to much for them, for they knew that war is hell.

Sergeant Johnson of the 5th Infantry watched as the airplanes started to take flak. The rain soaked his simple wool uniform, and soon the blood would as well. Now the German's machine-guns had opened fire upon his boat, and soon some of the slower men fell…holes in their heads. The boat operator started yelling something, but the roar of the engines, and the blasts of explosions and guns muted him.

The sergeant hit the deck as soon as he felt the boat ram into the beach. Soon enough, the front lowered into a ramp, and bullets ripped through the boat, instantly killing those unfortunate enough to be assigned to the front of the deck. The rest, including the sergeant, jumped off the sides, and into the freezing waters below.

"Move damn it," he shouted at the men around him, "move into the beach's cover and shoot those damned Germans!"

The men responded with a simple, "yes sarge!"

Once upon the dry-ish land, the sergeant had pulled out his M1 Garand rifle, and though the chances were slim, he still had managed to shoot a couple of the Germans, although they survived for the most part. The medics had arrived, causing him to glance to the side, losing a perfectly lined up shot. _Damn,_ he thought _, fuckin' medics._ He ducked as a machine-gun fired upon his position.

"FUCK," rang out a pained cry from an unknown soldier, "MEDIC!"

The sergeant didn't look back, for somebody had thrown a grenade into one of the German pillboxes, giving him time to move further up on the beach. Noticing he was the only one further up, he yelled at his men to move further up with him.

* * *

Soon they had crawled their way up to the pillbox's base, and the sergeant ordered a private to keep watch while they schemed. The sounds of explosions and gunshots made it almost impossible to think, or even hear each other, forcing them to move up without a plan in mind.

* * *

"It probably wasn't the best idea," said one of Johnson's squad mates when interviewed, "after all, it got most of us killed…God, I still see that horrid place in my dreams…"

* * *

They charged into the pillbox, rifles at the ready, expecting some sort of resistance…but no German showed his face. Every man's nerves were on edge as they slowly walked forward into the pillbox.

"You boys watch out here," said the sergeant, "I'm going to check out the turret area."

Calls of "yes sarge," followed him as he moved into that fateful room. He heard a strange chanting in the back of his head as he opened the heavy steel door, but thought nothing of it as a German ran out of hiding, and suddenly he felt hot metal enter and then leave his body. The German kept up his barrage until his Sturmgewehr ran out of ammunition, but thankfully for the poor Yankee, the German had mostly missed, for if he had not, the Yankee would have died there. So using the distraction, the Yankee stumbled out into another room where he tumbled unceremoniously into a green portal.

* * *

 **6/6/1944 Operation: UNKNOWN, unknown planet**

An explosion ran out from the courtyard, and Louise was downtrodden…just like all spells she could cast, this one ended in an explosion as well.

The other students started snickering, but that soon ended when a deep throated yell rang out, "MEDIC!"

"I'VE BEEN SHOT," the sergeant yelled through the smoke, "DAMN IT!"

Now the students were worried, for Louise had managed to summon a musketeer, or at least a soldier of some kind. Soon they found out, though, once a strangely dressed man stumbled from the cloud of smoke. He held out one hand which carried what looked like a strange flintlock pistol of some sort, and the other hand grasped at his side, attempting to stop the now very apparent blood from flowing out.

* * *

The Yankee stumbled towards the people dressed in medieval garb, for perhaps one of them was a medic. He could feel his life quickly seeping out of his side as he stumbled towards the group. But soon his wounds got to him, and he collapsed into the arms of a small girl with strange hair.

* * *

Unbeknownst to the rest of the group, a man had followed the Yankee through the portal. He laid, hidden in the nearby wall's shadow, watching as they carried the Yankee off to the medical areas. His eyes narrowed as he clutched his rifle tighter...he had a plan...he always had a plan, and he knew he must watch this man...perhaps he would join him eventually...but only time would tell...and time doesn't let out it's secrets easily.


	2. In which introductions are made

A young, pink-haired girl worriedly sat next to an old medical bed. Upon it laid the very man she'd summoned not a day earlier. Blood no longer leaked from the many bullet wounds that before had riddled his body, but he was still not fully healed. His torso was completely covered with bandages, and it twitched as he dreamed about all the failed operations he'd engaged in against the Nazis.

She glanced over to the corner where is equipment was stored…no doubt he'd want it back upon regaining consciousness, so it'd been kept in the same room with him. With it, his combat jacket was stored, and upon it's shoulders rested a strange flag…and the symbol for a First Class Sergeant, although slightly modified, she still recognized it. The flag was even odder to her than the symbol above it…it bore thirteen red and white stripes, and a blue square with forty-eight white stars…she didn't recognize the country which claimed it.

She glanced at his strange weapons. The larger of the two was eerily similar to that of a musket…but yet…it was not a musket…too much metal, and a knife lay affixed at the end, effectively turning it into a spear. The small was even odder…somehow…it seemed to be like a flintlock pistol, although, it's design was completely different…it was to 'L' shaped…and almost completely made out of metal.

Suddenly the man was awaking. She called out for her professor excitedly.

* * *

First off, the sergeant knew something was off…well, besides what felt like a massive hangover, but he was in some medieval British castle or something. And, besides him was some twelve year old with… _pink_ hair. _Who'd dye their hair_ _pink_ , the sergeant thought, _like_ why _would you dye your hair_.

Soon a balding old guy that reminded the sergeant of one of his high school math teachers, entered the room.

"Ah, he's awake," the old guy exclaimed with a strong French accent, "now then, sir, what's your name?"

"Johnson Smith," the sergeant replied, "first class sergeant, 5th Infantry of the U.S Army."

"The U.S?"

"Yessir, the United States of America."

"Where is this…'United States of America?' I've never heard of such a place."

The sergeant looked at the old guy like he'd just grown another head out of his ass.

"Did you just say you don't know what America is?"

"Yes?"

"Damn, you French must be really uninformed…we're the guys assisting the Brits with killing Nazis."

"Brits? Nazis? What are you talking about?"

"I…wait…where are we?"

"The Tristain Academy of Magic."

"I assume Tristain is the country?"

"Of course."

"Well damn! I'm like on another planet or some shit. I mean…I might be back in like the middle ages when they thought magic was real…"

"I suppose it makes sense that you could be from another world…and I can assure you magic is real."

"It ain't."

Then, much to the sergeant's amazement, the old dude muttered something and a flame appeared in the air.

"Okay…how…the…fuck…did…you…FUCKING DO THAT?!"

"Could you perhaps not yell? Anyway, it was a simple spell."

* * *

The hidden watcher peered through one of the many windows. _Interesting_ , he thought, _magic…I wonder how that could help the Fatherland._

* * *

Louise scoffed at the man…how could he not know of magic? Even though normal peasant was incredibly stupid, they even knew of magic…of course he did claim to come from some other world, but that was simply not possible…only one world existed.

The man then spoke up again, "could I get my shit on?"

* * *

Five minutes later he came out of the room, fully dressed. The clothing was…well, to say the least, a little bit odd yet fitting, for he wore a green uniform and a large helmet. His trousers came down all the way, covering his mudded boots. Pouches covered his torso. A small scabbard of sorts rested upon his hip, holding his pistol, and his rifle lay slung over a shoulder. Yet the oddest part of the uniform, was the small shovel the lay across his other hip.

"Like what ya see, missy?"

Realizing that she'd been staring for too long, she blushed, "stupid dog!"

He just laughed.

He then turned to the older man, "so what happens now?"

This time, Louise answered for him, "I summoned you, so you are my familiar and your master so we will do what I say!"

The professor visibly cringed when he saw the look on the Yankee's face.

"D-did you just say that you're my… _master?_ " He spat out he last word with such malice it was unbearable.

"Yes."

"I AM A SERGEANT OF THE UNITED STATES OF FUCKING AMERICA, ALTHOUGH MY ANCESTORS WERE WHITE THEY FUCKING FOUGHT FOR THE SLAVES, Y-YOU MOTHER FUCKING BITCH!"

All confidence that she had was completely and utterly gone as the Yankee yelled at her…the fear was very evident on her face, and she slowly was backing away. Colbert now firmly grasped onto his staff for fear this stranger would attack Louise.

"Uhh, sir, may we continue the ritual?"

The Yankee glanced at Colbert before talking, "sure… _but_ , I am _not_ a slave."

"O-of course, Louise?"

Louise nodded, and then quickly pecked the Yankee on his cheek, fearing that he'd kill her.

"I feel like a fuckin pedo," the man muttered.

Suddenly the feeling of a thousand superheated needles raced up his arm. The pain was too much and he nearly screamed as he grasped his arm.

"The fuck did ya do?!"

"I simply marked you as my familiar," Louise said, crossing her arms.

The Yankee glanced down at his hand, "hey it's like a tattoo…heh."

Colbert asked the Yankee to show him his hand...which the Yankee did, "strange these runes...they...it's like they're modified, normally there's a bit that makes the servant undyingly loyal to the master...yet I cannot see that here...I shall look into this..."

The Yankee coughed.

Colbert cleared his throat, "now then, sir, I suppose you have terms and conditions?"

"Yes, now then, first off, ya can't order me to do _shit_ , alright? We're partners…no…you know what?"

Louise shuddered, "w-what?"

"You kinda remind me of myself back in boot camp…but…actually…never mind…we're partners. How's that? I assist you, you assist me. Simple."

"Uh, s-sure-"

"One more thing, you _ain't_ callin' me familiar, and I ain't calling you master. We will go on a name basis. Is that good?"

"Y-yeah…please don't hurt me…"

"What was that last bit?"

"N-nothing."

"Aight."

The professor once again cleared his throat, "now then, 'tis the Day of the Void, and I suppose you both haven't eaten breakfast, sergeant, Louise shall lead you to the dining hall. Now off you go."

* * *

The dining hall was…well, "overly fancy." The Yankee was convinced that they'd spent over half of the budget on this place alone. It was purely massive, and had great arches of gold. Long tables stretched from one end of the room to the other. And as he and Louise found some seats he looked around in equal parts awe and disgust.

"Beautiful isn't it," Louise beamed, "of course, commoners like _you_ aren't allowed to eat here-"

The Yankee glared at Louise, shutting her up instantly and making her shudder…

"It's fuckin' ugly," the Yankee said, "too much gold and fancy shit."

Louise was too scared to respond.

* * *

The Yankee held out a seat for Louise, before grabbing a plate and heading out.

"What are you doing?" Asked Louise.

"I haven't seen the whole damn place, I gotta scope it out and I would rather do that as I eat."

"O-okay."

* * *

The Yankee was walking through one of the many courtyards when he saw a brown-haired girl looking for something or someone. Now being the kind gentleman he was, he of course took initiative and waltzed up to her.

"'scuse me, ma'am, what're you looking for?"

She glanced up at the tall man, "uhh, I'm looking for Guiche."

"An' what does this 'Guiche' look like?"

"He's a blonde and talks with such…gentlemanliness!"

"Aight, I'll help ya look."

So he did, and they looked for a couple minutes before he spotted the kid talking with some blond chick.

"Follow me, I've spotted him."

"Okay?"

Marching up to the couple, he tapped Guiche's shoulder…who look relatively pissed that a commoner would dare touch him.

"What do you want, _commoner?_ "

"Well…kid I found some chick who was looking for ya."

That's when Katie stepped out from behind the man…the Yankee just chuckled as the idiot was found out as a two-timer. In turn, Guiche was far from happy that he'd just been found out and then slapped.

"You there commoner! You're to blame for this!"

"I didn't do anything but bring the brown-haired chick, it isn't my fault you're a cheating asshole."

" _ **AUGH!**_ I challenge you to a duel!"

The Yankee smiled.


	3. In which mistakes are made

**8/9/1944 Operation: GARDEN-SCOUT, Objective: Survive and scout out the local area.**

* * *

The smile was unnerving to the boy. It showed too much confidence for a commoner.

Guiche was about to open his mouth when the commoner spoke up, "I accept, boy."

Did that commoner just call him a-a _boy_?! "Watch your filthy tongue, _commoner_!"

The man just laughed, "where and when is the fucking duel being held, kid?"

" _W-why you_ …in the Wind Courtyard! Ten minutes!"

* * *

The Yankee thought this kid was absolutely moronic in every which way possible. First he gets caught cheating. Second he blames it on him while simultaneously insulting him. Third he asks for a duel with an American Army _sergeant_. The kid was bound to lose his head sooner or later.

 _Huh I think I'll name this operation…Slayer._

* * *

 **8/9/1944 Operation(s): GARDEN-SCOUT & SLAYER, SLAYER Objective: Kill that cheating sonuvabitch.**

* * *

 **Ten minutes later.**

"You showed up! I'm surprised you didn't run off, tail between your legs like the dog that you are!"

"An' why the hell would I run off from such a wimpy ass sonuvabitch like you?"

"Magic!"

"Magic, eh? Well, I'm bored let's-"

Louise had just noticed what was going on, "what are you doing?!"

"I'm just gonna beat some sense into that moron's head."

"He's got magic! You're just a commoner!"

"Your master has more sense than you," Guiche said, "perhaps if you…"

The Yankee was muttering, "grenades…check…ammunition…check…M1 Garand…check…oh, I gotta 1911 as well…Hitler here I come!"

"A-are you paying atten-"

"Both of you, shut up, I'm bored, let's get this damn thing going! You there, kid with the brown hair."

"Y-yeah?"

"Say when the duel started," he pushed Louise, much to her annoyance, into the sidelines.

"Uhh," the brown haired kid said, "the duel has started!"

"Now then," Guiche announced, "I am Guiche of the Bronze therefor-"

A loud crack rang out, and the boy suddenly felt an intense pain in his shoulder, causing him to drop his rose-shaped wand and scream. Tightly grasping his shoulder, he fell to the floor as blood squirted out. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the Yankee slowly approach him.

* * *

The German crouched in the shadows upon the nearest wall, binoculars in hand as he watched the duel. _Of course,_ he thought, _only an American would finish a duel in such a way, and that quickly…the barbarians…he would make an excellent ally._

He watched for some time in growing interest, before realizing he'd seen enough. _The "nobles" here are…total sheiße…they have no concern for human life…and the American probably already knows that…I suppose I shall head to the nearest village. Time to give them a bit of a taste of their own medicine._

The German got up and scaled the wall, heading to the nearest village to start vigilante work of sorts. He will return.

* * *

"explain to me again why you're a 'noble,'" the Yankee said, "because there isn't anything noble about ya."

Guiche just silently cried on the floor, wishing for the torment to end.

"Now then, clearly I've won, based on the fact you ain't getting up, and the faces of you fellow…'nobles.' And I suppose that as the victor, I shall do a bit of beating sense into ya."

Guiche whimpered, it was too much for the wimp.

"Now then…GET THE HELL UP PRIVATE!"

Guiche painfully dragged himself up off the floor, "U-uh, yessir."

"I'm sorry…did you just call me, 'sir?!'"

"Y-yes."

"I AM A SERGEANT AN' YOU _WILL_ CALL ME 'SARGE!'"

"Yes, s-sarge!"

"Now then drop down, an' give me fifty!"

Guiche did so, and thought he would be able to complete the punishment…until he felt the weight of a certain sergeant's combat boot upon his back.

* * *

A couple minutes, and much struggling later, Guiche had completed the smoking and was crying on the floor.

"Alrighty, kiddo, looks like we're done, go on now, do what you normally do, like eat cake and chase girls."

So he ran off crying, a perfect time for the Yankee to get back to Louise whom he wished to talk to.

"Hey, Louise."

"Y-yes J-Johnson?"

"Listen to me, and hear me well: now I may be an inconsiderate asshole, but let me tell you…this is the problem with you people…you have no consideration for those lower than you. You demand respect without actually earning it, all because of some 'blood right' or some shit. You claim to have harder lives than those of 'commoners' yet you ain't worked a day in your life. Now think about that, I'm gonna be at the kitchens eating something. God I'm starving…"

So think she did.


	4. In which a question is asked

**26/1/1946 Operation: UNKNOWN, Location: Tarbes Village, Tristian.**

* * *

They called him the Phantom. A man with an unknown past, and unknown weapons. They feared him, for they feared the unknown, and the unknown hated them. He always showed up, but yet…he never scratched a _commoner_. The trail of bodies were all from noble lines.

Nobody believed that the Phantom was real, of course. The _commoners_ didn't think anyone would be willing to stand up for them, and the nobles couldn't believe that their brothers and sisters would be beat that easily. The Phantom was naught but a child's bedtime story.

* * *

The Duke stood proudly upon the beast he rode, not caring about the atrocities committed by those around him. Indeed, his soldiers ran around, like ants, brutally murdering the men, and raping the women. Yet, the Duke only encouraged such behavior…because of this, a clear target had been put on his back…yet he did not know.

He, of course, believed himself invincible…at least, towards a _bloody commoner_. Being a square-class mage meant that. He also had quite the fiery attitude, perfect for his alignment of fire.

A couple of quiet, yet strange explosions rang out, but he was too bored to care, "men, let us depart!"

No response followed. Not the sound of neighing horses, nor the sound of clinking armor. Hell, the place was totally, and utterly _silent_.

"Men?"

Yet again, not a response followed his cry, and this worried him enough to turn around. The sight was horrific.

The bodies of what once were his soldiers and guards now lay, slumped over on the ground. Strange holes peppered their bodies. The Duke disembarked from his beast, examining the sight before him. _How did this happen?_

Now the silence was crushed by the light sound of heavy boots.

The Duke looked towards where the sounds came from.

A strangely dressed man, carrying the strangest of staves was walking towards him. His clothes were a greenish-grey, and he wore a strange helmet.

"W-who are you?!"

The man smiled.

...

He was now standing before the Duke.

"I…I am a man of legends, _fickerkönig_ ," the last word was seemingly spat.

"I know my legends quite well, and I do not know of a man like... _thine._ "

The strange man smiled, and started removing something from his side.

"Of course…you would not know me…but I am _certain_ that your _children_ know of my legends, no?"

"Huh, I do not know of-"

Then that horrible explosion rang out. The thing that the man had pulled from his side now smoked. The Duke recognized it as a strange flintlock. The Duke also noticed a sharp pain in his leg, and that he no longer was standing.

"WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK I-AAAUUGGHH!"

The strange man smiled as he crushed the Duke's wand hand below his heavy combat boot. A boot now caked in blood.

"I…am the man who steals away children when they lie."

Between the pained expression, the Duke was confused, he'd not heard a children's tale in a long while and was unsure of what this man was referencing.

Said man grinned evilly, "I too, am the man who avenges the horrors done to the common man."

The Duke's eyes widened in terror at this statement.

"I…am the _Phantom_."

A cry rang out as the Duke was killed by the Luger which the German carried.

* * *

 **26/1/1946 Operation: UNKNOWN, Location: Tristian City, Tristian.**

* * *

The Yankee had changed much, since two years of living in an unfamiliar world. From saving the Staff of Destruction, which was really just an M1 Bazooka. To single-handedly stopping an entire army, making the Queen promote him into a noble. And now, he was sitting in a fancy restaurant, sipping coffee and wondering if D-Day was successful. He glanced at his 'master,' who turned out to be an awfully powerful Void Mage.

A waiter cleared his throat, bringing the Yankee back into reality, "uhh, sorry, sir, I'll have the cheeseburger special," one of the many foods he'd happily brought into this world…but yet…the idiots that ran the world always found a way to piss him off…they didn't allow commoners to eat burgers, or for that matter, any foods he'd brought from America.

"I'll have the same please," Louise told the waiter, who bowed and quickly left, "I don't see what's your problem, sarge." Louise had gotten used to calling the Yankee 'sarge.'

"Well now, they don't allow normal folks to eat the shit I brought from the States. Fuckin 'ell I hate the feudal system…constitutional republics are superior…can't have anyone above the law."

"If you weren't a noble, you'd be flogged for saying that, sarge."

"Just 'cause it hurts their… _feelers_ , don't make it any less true."

The Yankee put his hands together, and looked into the eyes of the young woman before him, "look…Louise, remember what I told you after I nearly killed that bastard Guiche?"

"Y-yeah? How could I forget…"

"Well, at the time I thought that you folks were just teenagers being teenagers, 'cept you got magical powers and shit. Oh how _fucking_ wrong I was."

"What do you mean?"

"The adults are no better…no…they're _worse_ than the teenagers. The problem is, they're above the law, and they have magical powers that allow them to stay there."

"What are you getting at, sarge?"

"They need to be fucking put down, like the retarded dogs they are."

"But-!"

"Yeah, yeah, I fucking know Henrietta is a good queen and shit…but the problem is, she's _one_ queen. _Literally no other ruler_ has been as remotely kind as her towards the general populace. The next in line will most likely be a tyrannical bastard that controls the law…what I'm saying is, we need to change _everything_."

"Uhh."

"The Founding Fathers knew this when they rebelled from those fucking Brits and created their own country. The same needs to be done here, and quick. No man should be put above the law. The law's gotta be the ultimate ruler… _we gotta rebel._ "

Louise was shocked, she knew that the Yankee had always been disgusted by the actions of the nobles…yet she wasn't expecting for him to tell her to _rebel_.

"So will ya join me?"


	5. In which Louise meets someone in a dream

After the Yankee asked Louise the question, she simply responded with, "I'll sleep on it."

* * *

That night she'd had the strangest of dreams.

She was in a warm, cozy room. A fireplace sat in a wall in front of her, and besides it was a fluffy looking chair upon which sat a smoking man who was reading a paper.

"Welcome, Louise Francoise le Blanc de la Valliere," the strange man said, "to my humble abode."

"W-who are you?!"

The man had a look of mock surprise, "I thought you would recognize me!"

"What-"

"Well now, I shall have to introduce myself…I am a void mage…a very famous-well pretty much all void mages are decently famous, but I am perhaps the most famous of all! Who am I kidding you guys literally worship me…"

"What?!"

"I…am Brimir! Yes, that Brimir, the dude who 'gave' you magic and shit…now I'm going to be honest here, I fucking regret doing it."

"I-what?"

"I was expecting for you folks to like…ya know, let everyone use it…after all, everyone has an affinity for magic."

"WAIT WHAT?!"

The man ignored her, and just continued his rant, "I should have never become a mage, I realize this after seeing Johnson's world…you know that in 19-something or another, they put a man on their _moon_? And yet, in _six thousand years_ you haven't advanced in the slightest. In only like a thousand years and some, they establish colonies on another planet! _Another planet_! You guys can't even-"

"What's your point? L-like why am I here?"

"Ah yes, sorry…as I was _going_ to say, I want you to fucking take up on the dude's offer. It will be better for everyone."

"If you say to, then I shall, Brimir!"

"Are you kidding me?! I'm literally in a bathrobe and reading the news, why are you so formal?"

"I-"

"Actually, I just remembered something I was going to do! So you know how you've been wondering what Johnson was doing before he showed up?"

"Y-yeah?"

"Cool and good…damn I can't wait to get back to shitposting. I love the internet."

"What?"

"Nothing," and he snapped his fingers.

* * *

After the pink-haired girl disappeared, Brimir snickered, "just like Thanos! Ha!"

* * *

 **9/6/1944 Operation: D-Day**

* * *

Louise felt like some _things_ had changed. First off, she was no longer in the flowing robes of a void mage, but instead a simple green wool uniform, complete with a helmet not unlike the Yankee would wear when going into combat. She also felt taller, and looking around, suspected that she was six feet tall.

Before she could look around more, a muffled voice yelled, "men get down, here we come!"

So, following the example of the rest of the people that were with her, she yelled, "Yessir!"

Her voice was surprisingly masculine. After some confusion she realized that Brimir must have put her into the body of one of the soldiers, or at least made her a man in order to blend in.

Now she noticed something, explosions started to ring out on a constant basis, and were, in fact, getting louder. Her curiosity got the better of her and she looked over what she now realized was the side of a metal boat.

What looked like hundreds of other boats, much like hers, were quickly approaching a heavily fortified beach. Clouds hung low below the sky, but high enough to frame the strange, metallic birds that flew. She had seen enough, and ducked back below the wall.

"One minute to landing zone(LZ)!"

Somehow she instantly knew what the unfamiliar abbreviations meant.

Now the men started getting uneasy, as bullets started flying over the boat, and ripping into the sides of the boat.

"Thirty seconds to LZ!"

The men, and likewise Louise, tightened their grasps on the plastic-covered rifles that they carried.

Now the boat rammed into something, slightly rocking it back and forth.

"Dropping platform!"

Louise was awfully glad she was in the back, for as soon as the platform dropped, bullets ripped through anyone unfortunate to be in the front. Seeing an opportunity, she dropped overboard into the freezing waters of Normandy.

Much to her thanks, the boats provided enough cover to keep her alive. Looking to her right, she noticed a mudded man that she could barely recognize as Johnson.

"Private, get your ass over here!" He yelled above the gunshots, and fearfully she listened. This was before she could soften him up, and he was truly a man to fear. Together, with the rest of Johnson's squad, they made their way up the bloodied beach.

By now the scene around her was terrible. Men were walking over to where their arms had fallen off in order to bring them to the combat medics in the hope they could be sewed back on or whatever they thought. She did not know. Others lain on the ground, their organs spilling from their guts as they screamed for their mothers. As she looked upon the scene further, she noticed men using their comrade's bodies as shields. Leaning over, she emptied her stomach's contents.

"You, aight, private?" Much to her surprise, the voice was Johnson's.

Wiping the remains from her mouth she responded, "n-no, sarge I-"

"It's aight, I get it, you're fresh from bootcamp, ain't no reason not to be sickened from the dead. I wonder how I keep my food in my stomach."

Louise was surprised, for this was a totally different man from the Johnson she knew. After all, Johnson was by far too tough to respond like that, right?

"Fucking hell, just don't vomit while you're tryna shoot some of those bastards. _Privates._ " And there it was.

Suddenly she had a burst of curiosity. Just what's going on over there? This caused her to peak over the cover that she was behind. And as they say, curiosity killed the cat, one was popped between her eyes and she fell back. Dead.

* * *

Once again, she stood in that cozy room.

"Ah, welcome back! Sooner than I expected to be honest."

"Uh, sorry, Founder?"

"Enough with the formalities, how was it? Terrifying?"

"Very."

"I expected no less, don't worry, Johnson's side won that war, ending it with a couple of literal bangs! Ha!"

"W-what do you mean?"

"I mean, they dropped a couple of bombs on two cities, one for each respectively. The two largest cities in Japan as well! One bomb destroyed each! Amazing, especially when you consider that they quickly made them capable of destroying entire countries, and by 2100, capable of destroying their planet!"

"WHAT?!" "You gotta consider that these guys don't have any magic to speak of…well…at least, not until they found that large ball thingie on mars. Only then did they gain the ability."

"Uh…"

"Enough of this, I think that we'll keep in touch, but you gotta wake up. See ya, Louise!"

And she awoke with a start.

Looking around, she could see that it was already midmorning. Unsurprisingly, she started thinking about what she'd dreamed about. _I-I met Brimir!_

Suddenly, someone rapping on the door thrust her out of her musings. She now realized that she was still in her nightgown.

"Uh, one second!"

After getting properly dressed, she opened the door to reveal a mildly upset Johnson.

"You slept in," he deadpanned.

"Yeah…I uh, had a weird dream…"

"Now then, down to business. I'm sure you know what I'm going to say-"

"I accept," she said, purposely leaving out Brimir.

"I never expected anything less. Now then, after lunch we shall be on our way, I hate this city, and I want to reach a certain town by nightfall. Then tomorrow I shall begin acting upon my plans. Including introducing the automobile to this godforsaken place."

"Uh, yeah…"

"Pack up your shit, I'm buying you armor, can't have you dying on me."

"But a noble never-"

"But a noble never blah blah blah, I don't _fucking_ care. What if you're casting a spell and someone comes up and stabs you?"

"I-" she didn't have an answer for this.

"Exactly. Now pack, I have to go get some shit so when you're done just head to the inn's tavern thing."

 _Oh, Founder, what have I gotten into?_

Surprisingly she felt a thought enter her mind unbidden, _you know, Louise, you're doing my work. Now here, have a Dr. Pepper._

A portal of sorts opened before her, and a reddish can fell onto her hand.

 _Uh…_


	6. The spurring of a rebellion

**27/1/1947 Operation: VILLAGE-SOIL, Objectives: Secure Tarbes Village from local nobles**

* * *

It was nightfall by the time that the two reached the point of interest, and snow was already falling. Louise clutched her cloak tighter, glancing at the Yankee who was busy buttoning up his trench coat.

"We're here," the stagecoach driver exclaimed, "don't worry, folks, I made sure that we're as close to the inn as we can be."

The two stepped out of the stagecoach, and the Yankee thanked and tipped the driver. The snow crunched heavily under Johnson's heavy combat boots as they walked into the inn.

* * *

A phantom of a man was perched on the roof of a nearby building. _What are they doing here?_

He hoped that this would not compromise his mission.

* * *

The patrons of the Moonlit Inn instantly quieted down when the two strangers entered the tavern. One was a short, pink-haired girl, and the other, a tall man dressed in strange clothes. Anyone could recognize them anywhere, they were the heroes of Tristian. Some of the rich nobles in the tavern announced that they were going to honor the heroes by buying every last round of that night. Nobody noticed that the heroes didn't take a single sip.

The dancing and singing lasted all night long.

* * *

The Baron was totally drunk. It was for this reason that the Yankee offered him a hand with getting home, seeing as his guards were completely out.

"T-thank yew, hero," the Baron hiccuped.

"Naw, don't think of it, here I know a short-cut through this here alleyway," the Yankee responded, while pointing towards a dark alleyway.

"R-really? M-man….y…you…you're q-quite clever!"

Nobody noticed when only the Yankee came out of the alleyway.

* * *

Siesta had just barely arrived back into her village the day before, and much to her pleasure, not much had changed in the peaceful village. The beautiful, frosty morning was interrupted when the soft crunching of boots announced the presence of another person.

When she stopped admiring the beauty of the snow covered vegetation, she noticed that the person was one of the waiters from a local inn.

"Uh, hey, ma'am. I'm Sven, uh, ma'am, uh, the Heroes are holding some event this morning, they want the, uh, whole town to be there, uh, ma'am," the simply dressed man explained.

"Oh! You mean _the_ Heroes?"

"Uh, yeah, ma'am…uh…those guys…"

Wrapping herself into the fur cloak that her father had made her, Siesta bounded to the stage area.

* * *

"You may be wondering why we called you here," the Yankee exclaimed, "or where the pinky is."

The crowd muttered in agreement.

"This is why," he snapped his fingers, and Louise came onto the stage dragging a chained up man that the crowd recognized as the local duke, a horrible and evil man that was replacing another.

The crowd shut up once they realized what was about to transpire.

"The normal folk of this world have been slaves long enough!"

The crowd had to mutter their agreements.

"The cruelty of the scummy bastards that have the _audacity_ to call themselves nobles will end, NOW!"

A sharp clap rang out, and the duke slumped over, dead. The pistol that the Yankee was now grasping was smoking. Louise muttered curses as the blood landed on her, ruining her fine cloak.

"Now some of you may say, 'but-but you're a duke yourself!' But do you know how I gained this title?"

Silence.

"I _earned_ it! I didn't get born into no family! Hell, I was born into the poorest of poor! A small farm miles from anywhere, and my family couldn't even afford a truck to get around anywhere! Naw, I ain't no lucky bastard! Neither are any of you! But we can end this tyranny!"

The crowd started to get excited.

"All of you work day and night, barely making anything for your honest, hard work, and what do they do? They take more than they deserve! They tare apart your families! They rape your daughters, and enslave your sons! Together we can bring freedom and justice! Together we can bring an end to this evil! So give me liberty…or give me death!"

The crowd roared, each one of them tired of the endless work. Each chanted the battlecry of the colonial rebels, for they were no longer just farmers, but instead something tougher…they were rebels…and they were ready for hell.

* * *

The man was hidden in an alleyway. _Shieße, he killed every last one of the nobles here…but to spur rebellion? Interesting…that battlecry though…how historical of you, Yank._


	7. In which the rebellion begins

The next morning the whole country was abuzz. The news of a rebellion was spreading fast. Rumors where everywhere, and fake news was common, but all had one thing in common: the supposed 'Heroes of Tristian' were nought but manipulating traitors.

Some nobles were already preparing for war…a war they felt that they would win easily. One man, specifically, was packing to head to Tarbes Village, the supposed beginning of the rebellion.

* * *

Poor Queen Henrietta was totally and utterly stressed out. She paced around her oversized bedroom, constantly rereading a letter signed by Louise. Said letter was short and simple, "we're sorry…but you did not provide enough action. It is a necessary evil that the people revolt."

 _Oh poor Louise, my only friend, why did you do this? Oh tough Johnson, why would you do this as well?_

* * *

Baron Alexandre Faucheux lead his one hundred men to the gates of Tarbes. Only one hundred was needed, for what could a bunch of weak, untrained peasants do? In fact, he might have gone a little overboard on the number of men, but he did not care.

The first signs that they were near Tarbes was the smell of smoke. Naturally, the Baron assumed that it was just the commoners' chimneys.

The second signs totally squashed the original assumptions, for the trees were burnt, and the farmlands and crops were all burned away and some were still on fire. The only thing left intact was a simple flag of fourty eight white stars on a blue background, and thirteen strips, half of them red, the other half white.

The Baron was flabbergasted. _W-why these are scorched earth tactics!_

* * *

 **Somewhere hidden in an unknown forest. Operation: REBEL-CONSTRUCTS, Objective(s): manufacture firearms and ammunition, introduce the automobile, train the rebels.**

* * *

Within a day, the ancient fortress had been mostly repaired and fortified. Within, the clings of hammers against anvils followed the booming of muskets.

"Now then," the Yankee said, "this is why one of my proposed rifles is superior. Now you have to painfully measure out the gunpowder and yada yada. In that time, anyone could just come up and stab you. With mine, as you'll see, you have twenty shots before you gotta reload, and it only takes a couple of seconds."

"Yeah, _but_ ," an ex-musketeer explained, "how are we gonna get that many materials? I mean, we're all commoners, you're a duke but you ain't got any magic, and Madam Louise is the only mage here!"

"Simple, Louise, care to explain?"

"Uh, yeah," Louise responded, stepping forward, "I've talked with the Founder himself…"

"Heresy!"

"Shut up, it was the actual Brimir, now then, he told me that everyone has a magic affinity, so if that's the case, I could train some of you as earth mages!"

"I-I guess that makes sense…alright, Sergeant, you win this time."

Someone ran up to the sergeant. Said man was carrying a prototype _Thompson Submachine-gun._

"Thanks, smithy, alright, now let me demonstrate."

* * *

 **Outskirts of Tristian City.**

* * *

All the commoners silently stood in the town square, unmoving and refusing to work. The local duke's Musketeer Forces were trying to convince the people to work.

"Come on, ye ungrateful buggers! Move your asses already!"

In response, a couple spat at the musketeer's feet…this caused the others to start picking up sticks and stones and start tossing them at the soldiers.

After thirty minutes of this ill treatment, someone fired. All the soldiers fired their muskets at the commoners in response. Perhaps this would be persuasive to them to work.

It took several minutes for the smoke to clear, but when it did the scene was forever remembered. Three commoners lay dead, and many more were wounded. The rebellion had it's first martyrs.

The remaining townsfolk took a second to look at their downed comrades, before charging, _unarmed_ , towards the smug musketeers. Said musketeers panicked at the sudden show of resistance, and were unable to unholster their flintlock pistols before being kicked or punched and having their weapons ripped from their hands.

That day, an entire musketeer battalion was killed.

One man thrusted his fist into the air yelling, "liberty or death!" Soon the cry echoed around the village as the newly turned rebels yelled their hearts out.

After an hour, the corpses of the musketeers had been completely stripped and beheaded, their heads were put onto poles thrust into the ground outside the village. Scrap weapons had been made and supplied to the men. Wagons were loaded, and the rebels evacuated the town after lighting one of the buildings on fire. They were hoping to join up with the main force.

* * *

After several hours of waiting, the Duke was bored. _Where the fuck did those musketeers get too? Are they drunk?!_

Riding his horse down to the village, he arrived within the hour, and the sight that greeted him was not pretty. Several buildings were on fire, the square was coated with blood, and some bodies still remained. The heads of his musketeers were impaled on poles, a clear warning for him.

He just stood there for several minutes, taking the scene in. _H-how-w-why…WHAT?!_

Only the soft click of a German Luger, and the feel of cold steel on the back of his head brought him back to reality.

The man with the gun spoke first, his voice oddly accented, "ugh, you're too lazy to go fix things out yourself? You absolutely _have_ to waste the lives of your soldiers?"

"Who are you, and what gives you the right to hold me hostage?"

"Oh, tsk tsk, I wasn't holding you hostage! _Nein_ , I'm planning to kill you."

"I uh-"

"As for who I am? Well, I'm too bored right now to give you a proper introduction…just know I'm the Phantom."

"Wait what-"

The air vibrated as the German's Luger went off

 _Shieße, I forgot how quickly revolutions get around._

* * *

"Hey, welcome back, Lou!"

She was once again in that cozy, fire lit room.

"LOU?!"

"Yeah yeah, your name is way too long for me. Besides, Lou is a nice name! Also, call me uh…uh…"

"Why am I here again?"

"Oh right, yeah yeah, I'm gonna teach you how to do the…earth mumbo jumbo."

"'Earth mumbo jumbo?'"

"Oh yeah, I don't know what to call it, I mean…as a certain _Foundation_ would call it, magic is an 'anomaly,' something that exists, but yet shouldn't. Makes sense?"

"N-no-"

"Good! Now here's how to turn dirt into metal…"

* * *

 **Taken from a Tristianian newspaper, dated '29/1/1947'**

* * *

 **Breaking News!**

 **Two dukes killed in one week!**

 **Rebellion! Rebellion! Rebellion!**

 **Tristian City Massacre!**

Yesterday at noon, a battalion of the Tristian City Musketeer Corps. fired upon a group of protesting commoners. Commoner casualties are unknown, but the attack resulted in the musketeers being killed and stripped of weapons and armor. The commoners were not at the scene when the local authorities discovered it. The body of Duke Charles de Jarque was discovered with the calling card of the Phantom. It is unknown if both are connected…

* * *

The winds were about to change, and everyone could sense it. The blood of men was about to be shed.


	8. In which someone new is introduced

The snow drifted through the air, coating everything with a thick layer of white. The flakes which landed upon the hot firearms which the rebel infantrymen were test firing.

"Works like a charm, sir," one of the rebels said.

Nearby, Louise was teaching the women how to use earth magic for metal production. It was quite successful. Using these skills, they could have a constant flow of weapons and ammunition.

Soon the soldiers would be taught destructive magics.

By now they had a single transport vehicle. A quick, but scrappy truck that could hold twenty people, including the drivers. As the Yankee had explained to Louise, he'd been a mechanic, but he didn't know how to make any aircraft. This lack of knowledge infuriated the Yankee to no end. They could not gain air superiority without airplanes. Neither could they deploy the use of paratroopers.

It had been a long week of laying low and training, and now they had a full battalion of infantry men, two squads of armored soldiers, and a single squad of snipers. Not the best, but the Yankee felt that they had more than enough to take out a small village. He hoped that their odds would improve if he could figure out how to make a proper tank. Not as easy as one would think.

He was confident he could already attack a town, and attack he did.

* * *

The infantrymen were loaded onto the truck, and driven to several miles out from a small, unnamed town on the eastern side of the country that was near to their fortifications. Two snipers rode horses to a hill that gave them a full view of the town. Gillie suits on, they waited for the signal flare.

This was every mans' first operation without direct help from the Sergeant, for he was now back a ways, acting as mission command.

At 1300 hours, the messenger pigeon was sent back to command that they had arrived at the outskirts of the town and were awaiting orders. The words, "Oscar Foxtrot," was the response. The men moved into the town, guns ready for any resistance.

* * *

The town was owned and controlled by a minor noble, and his small army. He had no musketeers.

Said noble was surprised when the pub he sat in, was suddenly introduced to a small squad of heavily armed soldiers who'd kicked down the door.

"Everyone! Drop your _fucking_ weapons, and put your damned hands on your heads!"

Naturally, this only made the noble reach for his wand, and point it at these idiots. A wand, he noted, no longer had a point once he actually pointed it towards the soldiers. He also noted that his ears were ringing.

"I said, put your _fucking_ weapons down! If you refuse to comply, we will shoot!"

The noble naturally considered himself superior to these commoners, but now that he had no weapons as he'd decided not to bring a dagger or sword, he did as was instructed. That smug look on those bastards irritated him to no end.

Said bastards had now tied his hands together before writing something on a piece of paper and sending out a pigeon. What they were doing with the poor bird, he did not know. He curiously watched this bird make it's leave.

* * *

They received the message ten minutes later.

"We have the noble under hostage. . .

Requesting vehicle to evac hostage.

Preparing to commandeer town. . .

Requesting General for increased morale."

 _Damn, if I only knew how to make electronics, birds aren't the most reliable._ This thought was mirrored by Brimir.

 _Damn, if he only knew how to make electronics, those birds could be shot down by a skilled mage…I know…I would rather not make it so easy for them, can't have them getting cocky…but this dude could be essential to the development of the country after the Revolution…_

* * *

Warrant Officer Sean Winters of the United States Space Force in the year of 2023 had always considered himself an educated man, for he had majored in tech and had managed to get a master's degree in it making him ultimately more qualified for his military career than any of his peers. His commanding officers had noticed this, his work ethic and his effectiveness, which made him quickly move up through the ranks. He had, in fact, designed the prototype for the Drop Pod Program(DPP) which earned him much reputation among his battalion. Several friends of his had even volunteered for the DPP, much to his annoyance. He had an ironic dislike for killing.

One would think a man like him would spend his Saturday designing some sort of advanced laser weapon straight out of Star Wars, not that he would be sitting down stressing over the fact that his brother was still trapped in some video game. Sean sat in the hospital room staring at the corpse-like body of his brother.

"Damn it, Josh, why'd you have to go and buy that stupid game? You could've just joined the… _marines_ if you wanted so badly to kill people…"

The officer stood up, "well, sorry, partner, but I have a job…" _Please wake up,_ "ain't no point crying over shit like this…I know you're still alive…so at least that's something good…"

Just then, a nurse came rushing in, "sir, you received some mail."

"Thank you, ma'am…"

 _Dear Winters,_

 _You don't know me, for I am a nobody, but I do know all about you. (Sorry about your brother, by the way, hope he's doing well.) You have been selected as a "candidate" for a program of mine. Don't question what that means, you'll know much more soon._

 _Oh, and by the way…I'd like it if you were to keep this little message a secret…I would prefer not to have to go to drastic measures._

 _Kilo India Tango_

 _Sincerely, ███_

Winters read the letter over, for many questions had popped into his head. Who was this mysterious sender? Why had they redacted their own name? What was this program of their's? Why had _he_ been chosen? How did they know about him and his brother? Why must he keep it a secret?

* * *

Brimir watched through the hacked security camera footage. He knew that Winters wouldn't bother to tell his commanding officers about the letter. After all, who'd want to face "drastic measures?" Of course, if he did actually spill the beans, poor old Brimir would be once again hunted down by that bothersome Foundation. He sorely hated anti-mages.

He smiled below his trench coat's upturned lapels. Soon Johnson would have assistance from a rocket scientist! Because people like Winters are rocket scientists, right? Now he was questioning his own judgement, but at least Winters would be able to make radios… _maybe_ planes too. Of course, can't give them everything so easily…it wouldn't be good for them to become cocky in their power…no…he'd have to give them magic-less aircraft after they won the war…or if they couldn't stand a chance…which would be a surprise all things considered.

 _Brimir scratched his head, for there was something that had been bothering him for awhile now….yet he could not figure out what it was. Aw shucks, of course! That Nazi guy who followed John…big oof! How could I forget about him smh!_

Brimir opened a portal to his homeworld and stepped through. He hid in the shadows, watching the Nazi go about his business.

* * *

 _Shieße, how can I assassinate nobles while this American is using an army to take them out before I can even get to them?!_

He paced back and forth through the hideout, occasionally glances up at the walls to see a specific map.

"Of course!"

 _Two can play at that game, American! I'll make my own army of assassins and take out nobles that way! Now I'll finally make money off of hits! American-whatever your name is, you brilliant son of a bitch!_

He quickened his pace, excitement coursing through his veins. His shadowy business was about to improve tenfold. Of course, the difficulty of this plan being, who in the underground would want to do something like this? Most assassins prefer lone wolfing…of course, he could do what that American was doing, and pull from the common people who'd no doubt enjoy something like this.

He scratched the beard he'd acquired while he'd reframed from shaving.

"Shieße, feels like something or someone's watching me," he muttered while nervously glancing around the compact room, "well, tomorrow I suppose I can go and see if I can hire some mercenaries for this."

* * *

Brimir stood in the corner, spell of invisibility active. _Huh, this'll be interesting. I'm giving John a rocket scientist, and this dude is starting an army of assassins. What an odd revolution._

He grabbed his phone and snapped a picture of the German for future reference. _Will be good to easily identify this dude. Hopefully Johnson will be able to take this dude out…can't have a Hitler taking over this place._

 _This'll certainly be entertaining._


	9. In which a new type of soldier is made

The noble couldn't see. Of course, he was forced to wear a dark woolen hood.

"Now then," a deep voiced man started explaining, "you _will_ tell us everything we want to know…if you don't, we'll conduct a form of torture that I still need to name…you'll find out what it is…Private!"

"Sir?" Another voice asked.

"Remove that hood."

"Yessir!"

The light pierced the noble's eyes, but now he could see what was before him. Both men were dressed in simple green tunics and pants and wore strange helmets. The older looking of the two, who he assumed was the deep voiced man, had his sleeves rolled up and had something on his shoulder…and…there was a _water bucket_ in front of him.

"Let's begin," the man said once again, "we should first introduce ourselves, I am Johnson White, but you may call me General…you?"

"Uh," responded the young noble, "you may call me Louie."

"Well then, Louie, are any nobles planning on resisting the inevitable?"

"I-I don't know."

"Wrong answer."

Louie's head was roughly _picked up_ and then _forced into the bucket._ He felt the water slowly leak into his left ear, and he wished he'd gotten a breath before this. Soon he was sputtering for air, and much to his relief, the strange man lifted him from the water.

"Speak."

"Like, I said, I don't know!"

"I can do this all day, so I suggest you spill the damned beans."

"I-"

Once again, he was forced into that water he would soon learn to hate for the rest of his short life.

"Spill the beans."

"F-fine! The General is planning a recon mission to find your hideout!"

"When."

"I swear I don't know! Please, I'm not lying!"

"Private, cuff him, were not getting anything else out of him for now, bring him to his cell."

"Yessir," said the private.

Once again, the world went dark as the hood was placed upon his head. He could only wonder what these rebels would do with this information.

* * *

The Yankee stuffed an old towel under the top of his helmet, wrapped a scarf around his face, tossed on a trench coat, and walked into the battering snow storm. If he had been any weaker or lighter, the wind would probably have swept him away like a snowflake.

A young soldier from the village that had just been liberated approached him, bearing an old piece of paper.

He cried out, "general! You've got mail!" Before the winds forced him to put a hand on his general's shoulder for support.

"Thank you, private," replied the Yankee, "carry on."

"Y-yessir," the private said before letting go and heading off into the storm, "it's awfully cold out…"

* * *

 _Dear General White,_

 _You don't know me, and that is fine. I will not compromise your location…I wish to merely assist in your endeavor…call me…an investor of sorts. A Wall Street for rebellions. Fear not, general, for help is on the way. Trust what I give you. Although it may not be from your time, and therefore alien._

 _Sincerely, an investor._

The general scowled deeply. The fact that their location was compromised by an unknown entity was worrying. _How'd that guy know about Wall Street anyway? Perhaps he's a god or some shit._

He tucked the letter into one of his pockets. He didn't have time for this, he had to announce the latest mission in the cafeteria.

Striding through the thick snow and ice, he finally made it to said cafeteria, a large, reconstructed building. He stopped a moment to open the door and enter, the warm air engulfing him. Here, many men in green uniforms, some in white, and many in heavy cloaks and trench coats.

"Men!" he cried out, "I have another mission for ya! You'll be sneaking into a military compound to steal an airship or two! I'll have a single squad go, you gotta do it quickly and quietly, if any of you sergeants want to do this, see me in an hour, your squad will be classified under the new, 'Mage Corps,' and you'll be given basic fire magic training and be outfitted with the new underslung wands and suppressed Thompsons. The mission will be carried out tomorrow at 0200 hours. At ease!"

All the men smartly dropped their salutes and sat down to return to eating. All discussed this new turn of events. The Yankee was honestly excited, as of tomorrow, they'd finally have an Air-force of sorts.

* * *

A smile cracked on the German's face. _Shieße, I didn't expect this many to respond to the invitation!_

In truth, only about seven assassins had shown up, but that was more than enough for the types of operation he dealt with.

"Right then! Before we can go and begin the assassinations, you need proper outfits," said the German.

A hand shot up.

"Yes?"

A Germanian man cleared his throat, "oi, but vhat'd ya mean we need 'proper' outfits? We all have black cloaks!"

Mutterings of, "yeah," followed his question.

"Well you see…what you're wearing is not proper camouflage…it may work at night, but we are not going to do most of operation under the cover of darkness, so you'll need forest camouflage. Which shouldn't be too hard acquire…in fact, I actually went ahead made you some jackets."

The were all handed hooded trench coats of various combinations of green, brown and a darker green.

"This pattern is called, ' _erbsemuster_ ,' it is, in my opinion, the best pattern of the Fatherland."

* * *

The soldiers curiously inspected their new uniforms with glee. The matte olive jack had longer tails resembling a robe. The helmets were replaced with a stiff, armored version of a bucket hat. Their new boots were longer and slightly pointed upwards at the tip, though the laces were covered with white gaiters.

"Christmas came early, eh, boys," the Yankee chuckled.

The men didn't know what a 'Christmas' was, but they assumed it was something good.

"Now then, men. Rest well, tomorrow you have a very important mission, and I want no one late. Dismissed!"

* * *

Tristian City was in uproar as protestors marched up and down the main road, their rebellious signs in hand. Along the roads they marched, yelling cries of rebellion against those who'd oppressed them so. The nobles just watched in amusement.

"Okay, this is getting old," a young noble muttered, approaching the angry mob, "all right, who are you to do this?!"

Suddenly a knife came out of nowhere, the noble instantly died.

"We're the Peacemakers, bitch."


	10. In which an airship is stolen

**17/2/1947 Operation: WIND-BREEZE, Objective(s): Capture at least a single airship from Tristian Airforce Base 1**

* * *

The men were dropped off about a mile out from the hidden airforce base. They could only think about trench-foot as they trudged through the thick snow. They continued this grueling activity until they reached the top of a hill overlooking the military airfield.

The squad leader threw up his hands and motioned for them to go prone, "sniper, you see those two guards down there?" Asked he.

The sniper unslung his Springfield and scoped in before responding, "yeah, sarge."

"Could you possibly cast one of 'em sleeping spells on them?"

"Negative, sir, too far away."

"Alright…use your rifle, soldier."

"Affirm."

A muted crack rang out as two men fell dead.

"Brimir, I love the General's suppressers!"

"Alright, sniper, you stay up here while me and the boys head down to capture an airship. Once you see us take off, wait five minutes before heading to the rendezvous point. I want you to open fire on any bastards who try to stop us. Am I clear?" "Yessir!"

The sniper set up his position as the other went down into the airfield. The light cast by the various torches and lanterns barely fell upon their muted olive uniforms. The soft leather boots they wore barely made a sound if any.

* * *

They'd now been creeping towards the airships for tops ten minutes without any resistance. Now before them stood four, half asleep guards. The staff sergeant nodded to his men. No light glinted off of their matte grey knives.

* * *

"Yo, ya guys heard of that stupid rebellion?"

"Yeah?"

"Read 'bout it. Their leader claims that a republic would actually work!"

"Haha! Next he'll be saying commoners can use mag-HURGHH"

"Jackie?-"

The soldiers cleaned their blades upon their pant legs before continuing. Before them was a group of soldiers and a noble.

"Shit! Get to cover."

After rushing to a pile of crates they discussed their plans. Several minutes later they had come to an agreement.

* * *

The sniper laid flat with his belly on the grass, rifle pointed towards the noble, a potential target. The sound of a pissed eagle rang out, quickly followed by the flash of a lighter turning on then off from where he assumed his comrades lay. This was the signal to take out the target he'd spotted.

A flash of light and a muted crack and the noble lay dead with a hole in his head. Quickly followed by the rest of the group to be killed before they could even think.

"Damn good shot," the sniper muttered.

* * *

"Shit that was an impressive shot, I'll recommend him for a promotion," the staff sergeant exclaimed, "alright boys, let's frame the Phantom for this!"

Some of the soldiers muttered, 'yessir,' before the sergeant tossed a copy-cat Phantom calling card next to the noble's corpse. Those who had their rifles out, looking to see if anyone had heard them, shouldered their rifles before going on…and much to their delight, the airship they were stealing was right before them.

"Alright men…here's what we'll do," said the Sergeant once again, "you there, come with me…we'll clear the airship and prepare it for liftoff while the rest of ye burn the rest of em down. Remember: once the fire begins, everyone will know we're here so you'll have to book it here…we'll take off if they discover us up here too fast. Good?"

"Yessir!"

The squad split further up.

* * *

"Odd," one of the group that was going to set fire to the airships muttered, "you'd expect more guards around these here parts."

"Yeah…of course, have you ever known Tristianians to have many guards anywhere?"

"True."

Thus they continued on their way, each one to a different airship to cast a fire spell upon them. After that, they bolted back to the stolen airship, a couple of them casting spells on other things just for fun.

* * *

Now there once was a guard known as Adrien. Now this Adrien was a guard at a Tristianian airbase. On most days nothing interesting would happen…but this day was not like most days. He knew this when he looked over and saw most of the airships he was guarding burning down.

It took a second for his brain to process what was happening, "oh shit!"

His battle buddy, a very uninteresting person looked over and asked, "w-what?"

"Look! The airships are burning down! Quick we gotta alert everyone!"

"What are you talking about you insane son of a…OH FUCK YOU RIGHT!"

* * *

"Sarge! We got guards comin'!"

The Sergeant looked over towards the ranks of guards that now approached, "damn it, we gotta take off real soon…where are our boys at?"

"Right here, sergeant," indeed, the men had returned to the stolen airship, and just in time too.

"Stop right there, rebels!" The guards' leader shouted.

"GO GO GO! LIFT OFF DAMN IT!"

The wooden ship creaked as it slowly rose into the air.

"Everyone not working on the ship, fire upon those imperial bastards!"

* * *

The guards had finally made it to the stolen airship, they thanked Brimir that it had not fully gotten off of the ground and they could still climb up it. This hope was quickly shattered when they heard one of the rebels shout, "fire, flames, whatever the hell I'm supposed to say, burn 'em guards real good!"

"BRIMIR THEY'RE MA-" a large sprout of flames lit up the night as if it was day. The several front rows of guards were killed, and the side of the airship was black as charcoal and slowly breaking.

After a quick daze, the guards were back to trying to get the rebels. They weren't worried for another spell, after all, that last one was quite powerful. That's why they didn't know they had died when several pounds of lead embedded it's self into the remaining guards. However, their leader, a low ranking noble, was left alive. He didn't know whether to be happy or scared. As thus, he ran to cover without looking back.

* * *

 _Should I shoot the noble? Nah, I'll just wound him._

Once again, a muted crack rang out and a seven-six-two was embedded into the noble's right leg. The sniper grinned and check behind him, nothing there, so he started his countdown 'till he had to rendezvous.

 _One. Two. Three…_

* * *

"Sarge, we got us a problem," one of the privates, specifically the one that casted the flame spell, said.

"Private?"

"My spell destroyed half of the left hull."

"Shit. Can it be fixed?"

"Maybe, if we can make it back to base."

"Was the frame hit?"

"I don't know."

"Uh, ok. Dismissed."

This could be a huge problem. Hopefully none of the machinery was destroyed, or else the General would be smoking their asses to kingdom come.

The Sergeant looked at the damaged hull. Didn't look too bad…just several chunks of wood were missing, and the rest was heavily burnt.

"At rendezvous point! Lowering airship!"

* * *

The wind whipped across the sniper's face. They were finally heading back to base.

"Bloody 'ell, lads," the sniper exclaimed, "that was some ridiculous mission, eh?!"

"Damn straight," the Sergeant joined him on the poop deck, "you did good yourself…did you kill that noble we left?"

"Nah, wounded him."

"Good. Good."

The sun was now rising over the dark wood forests of the eastern lands. It was beautiful. Strokes of purples, blues, and reds streaked across the sky and quickly faded into the darkness of night that lay towards the Western Plains. The sight of the orange sun quickly raised the soldiers' morale.

The sight of base also raised their morale.

"We're almost there, boys!"

* * *

The Yankee watched as the large floating boat descended.

He turned to his companion, a young soldier in some sort of futuristic plate armor, and said, "that there is the airship. I want you to dissect the whole damned thing. Find out what it's made of, how it runs, etcetera."

The young man nodded, "yes, General. If I may, request to go find supplies for my proposed aircraft?"

"Permission granted, soldier. Just figure this shit out."

"Yessir."

The young man climbed aboard the airship as the Sergeant climbed down. "General!" The Sergeant shouted, "who's the kid?"

"He's new. I think you'll like him. He's apparently my grandson."


	11. How Sean arrived in Tristian

**12/31/23, OPERATION: UNKNOWN…**

* * *

Today was no standard New Years Eve, at least, not for a certain young soldier. The Soviets had invaded America and were currently attacking the base said young soldier was stationed at.

This was the first major battle of a long war. Nobody, not even the Soviets themselves, had expected it.

"Grab your damned weapons!" Someone shouted over the sounds of men running and metal hitting metal. "Even the Space Force boys!"

Indeed, those three days of firearms training was paying off. The soldier, who shall be called Winters for the purpose of this story, was charging with a group of Marines towards the main choke point. He had had no time to change so he regretfully ran in his black and white dress uniform, a stark contrast to the surrounding colors.

 _At least they didn't pull a George Washington._

"Officer Sean!"

"Y-yes, Colonial!"

The colonial was practically pushing his way through the sea of Marines, "I want you to head down that corridor there, here's a radio, I want to know if any of 'em commies broke through there."

"Yes, Colonial," Winters gave a smart salute before running down the corridor as instructed.

* * *

The corridor Winters had run down was a dreary gray. It was impossible to spot anyone in urban camouflage, naturally this made Winters on edge.

There was some sort of fluttering sound. Turning around, Winters saw nothing.

He shrugged and turned back around.

"'Ello!" Said a cheery voice.

He shot off a burst of rounds then cursed.

"Who the hell are you? And how'd you get into a restricted area?!"

"Shh! There may be some Russians, actually there isn't, so don't worry."

"Show yourself damn it!"

"Okay, okay, just don't shoot please!" A cheery looking old man stepped out from beneath the shadows.

"Why are you dressed like mother fucking Mr. Rogers?"

"Don't question my choice of clothes. Now then, I need you, I was thinking of giving you another cryptic letter but I said, 'eh screw it, I can just go meet the kid in person.' Quite unlucky for the Russians to chose to attack now. Oh well."

"You will explain everything to me."

"Are you sure that you wan-"

"If you fuckin' dare to refuse, I will kill you."

"How so? You'll code some satellite to fall onto my head-calm down! I'm just teasing you, no need to start killing people…You're awfully like your ole grandpa, honestly. Of course, he never asked questions."

"You knew my grandfather?"

"I knew him, he didn't know me. Now, let me explain as you so wanted me to." The old man cleared his throat before continuing, "there are aliens."

"I knew it!"

"Now don't get too excited, most are human, well at least the ones you're gonna be dealing with, there's still others like the Awoken and the wookies…"

"Did you say-?"

"Yeah, you're gonna be dealing with aliens. They also have magic so…now then, let me explain more and better, I am going to teleport you to a world that's on the opposite side of the galaxy, you'll also be going back in time to like nineteen-forty-something, so congrats, you're a time traveller!"

"What else."

"Ah yes, you'll be helping your grandfather create a new nation on that world, it's gonna be an American Revolution type thing. Main difference being everyone there still uses medieval technology and they have magic."

"Will I be able to learn this magic?"

"If you want…uh anyway, I hope you're prepared (don't worry, I'll give you some stuff once we get there.)"

"Hold up-!"

The world went dark.

…

"Oh come on, lad! You're fine, don't worry, there's no radiation so I doubt you'll get cancer!"

Winters groaned at stood up.

"Here, take this, it'll have everything you need." The old man handed him a large suitcase that looked completely stuffed.

"Uh thanks…"

"No problem, I gotta go now, uh, head west for like a couple miles and you'll reach where you need to go. Stay frosty!" The man waved and disappeared.

Winters glanced around as he walked, looking for signs of bandits or the like. This meant he got to see that the surrounding area resembled much of Washington state.

Soon, however, a fortress stood against the trees.

"Hey, you!" A guard yelled from the top of a wall, "What do ya want!"

"I'm looking for a man by the name of Johnson Winters! He might go by the surname of White!"

The guard turned and muttered something to someone before responding, "wait there!" And rushing down to somewhere beyond the wall.

* * *

The gate cracked open, and a soldier dressed in general's garb.

"G-grandpa?" Winters' voice cracked.

"What the fuck, I had a kid?"


	12. In which a new weapon is invented

**17/2/1947**

* * *

The engineer held up some sort of small brass tube.

"What is it?" The Admiral asked.

"Sir, this was reported to have come out of one of the Rebel's repeating muskets when they were stealing an airship from this very airbase."

"What's so important about it?"

"Everything, sir. My theory is that they contain gunpowder and the bullet inside a cartridge like this. If we utilize this technology, we might be able to create repeating muskets ourselves."

"Oh?"

"Yes, yes! If we use cartridged rounds, and rifle our muskets, we can have extremely effective and compact firearms. It's ingenious!"

"Hmm…Courier Daniel!"

A young man dressed in chainmail who carried a satchel entered the room, "yes, sir?"

"Alert her majesty, Queen Henrietta at once. Our gunsmiths are working on a design for a firearm that could match the Rebels in power."

"Right away sir! Long live the Queen!" The others echoed the courier's cry and all beat their breasts.

* * *

The Queen had yet to get over the fact that her best friend was now her worst enemy. Every day there seemed to be worse, and worse news…there was no hope for her country, but she at least had hope that she'd be spared from the destruction. She was the most popular ruler in history, after all, and the no-nonsense Johnson wouldn't execute her, he knew her too well, and knew that he'd screw himself over if he did that.

Still she paced around her chambers.

The door opened, and through it came the courier. She waited expectantly for the news that some major town had been conquered and all the nobles hung, or that the country had finally been conquered and she could stop worrying.

"Your Majesty, I have great news today!"

"Is the Rebellion over?" She asked hopefully.

"No, sadly that is not the case…" The man seemed to be musing over something, "no, but we have a way to end it!"

 _Oh just say that we should surrender already…I can't handle this._

"Oh?"

"Yes, yes…our greatest smiths and engineers are working to create a weapon that can match the Rebels!" He was clearly excited if that grin said anything.

 _Oh Brimir!_

"Ah, yes," she tried her best to hide her sadness that the Rebellion was seemingly never going to have an end, "good, replace all our soldiers' outdated weaponry with this as soon as possible, please."

 _Hopefully they'll be unreliable and I'll have an excuse to surrender._

"Yes, of course, I shall bring this message to the General right away, your Majesty!" He quickly bowed and left.

She looked out the window and tried to not cry. It seemed that this revolution would take everything she loved from her.

* * *

 **4/3/1947**

* * *

The engineers admired their work. It was a lever action rifle that fired 4.78 ammunition, this world's first full cartridge. It was glorious compared to a musket; cheap, compact, light, and significantly more deadly. They hoped it could stand up to the repeating muskets of the Rebels.

It was even rifled.

"Mates, we have made ourselves a repeating rifle, I'd like to see the faces of the Rebels once these things are used. What shall we name it?" The lead engineer asked.

"How about the Lee," one of the engineers responded, "named after you, the man who dreamed it up."

"I like it." They all did.

* * *

The full court was present as the gunsmiths unveiled their invention. The general smirked as Henrietta let out a small gasp of surprise.

The lead engineer, Lee spoke, "your Majesty, we have done it. We have created a weapon to surpass the Rebels!"

The engineer opened up a crate to reveal the weapon. It was beautiful. Made from mahogany, silver and gold, and inlayed with all sorts of jewels. It didn't scream "I'm gonna kill you."

Lee explained this, "this is your's, my Queen." He knelt down on one knee to give it to her.

"Oh my…I-I'm honored!" She was surprised to find that she really was.

"This is what our soldiers will actually be using," he unboxed a much more simple weapon, made from cheap woods and iron, "it's cheaper and more powerful than any previous weapon we have invented."

"How quickly can we put these onto our soldiers?" The General spoke up.

"One week."

"One week? Perfect. I want our new soldiers to lose all their armor except their helmets. See if you can make a more compact version for the cavalry. They can keep their armor. Is this good, your Majesty?"

There was no way she was going to stay sane after this, "y-yes, Sir General…do what you must."

 _She didn't refer to me by name like she usually does, the General thought, she must be worried sick with this whole Rebellion…we all are._

* * *

 **One week later…**

* * *

Tarbes had seen much change since falling under Rebel control. No longer was it just a small farming village, but instead a fortress. A wall of sharpened logs had been constructed around it in a star formation. Cannons, both automatic and blackpowder, lined said wall. Beyond that wall were trenches that lined the countryside.

It was no surprise really.

What was a surprise was when the air was suddenly filled with lead.

"Man your battle stations, men!"

Instantly every Rebel soldier dropped what they were doing and rushed to their stations. It was life or death.

Why would the Tristianian Army want such a seemingly worthless village? It actually lay next to a large river that allowed Rebel access to a bulk of the country. It was a wonder that the village hadn't become a city.

The sound of buzzing filled the air. The Tristianians were dismayed about what they looked upon. A squadron of small wood and canvas flying machines circled around the battlefield. One spotted the position of a poor squad of soldiers and turned towards them. For about ten seconds it appeared to be on fire, but they now knew that that was not the case. Where there once stood six brilliant young men, now lay unrecognizable corpses that were peppered with holes.

Somehow the Rebels were three steps ahead of them at all turns. But as God made man, they hoped Lee Augustine made them equal.

And so they fired back. Then the Rebels fired back. And soon no one had been able to move an inch and it had started raining. Before anyone knew it they had to slog through muddy trenches, and anyone who dared stick their head any higher than their hole in the ground got shot by some unseen phantom.

They were truly stuck in a stalemate.


	13. In which the German does something

The Tristianians heard the sound of a machine-gun echoing in the night. It was now the end of the first week of the bloody stalemate. Already a hundred men had lost their lives.

The boom of a mortar broke through the night. The crater scarred the once green fields.

The stalemate was nowhere near ending. Soldiers had already gotten used to sleeping in the mud. All roads and houses that had been built there now no longer existed. All was gone. Already many experienced shellshock.

Yet the Rebels still held Tarbes.

They knew that many men would lose their lives, but this town needed to be captured.

As the day closed, and night fell upon these forsaken lands, the Tristianian General called a charge upon the Rebels. The battle carried on.

"How long will this go on?" The man muttered, "damn it, what's the purpose of it all? What is the price of a simple, single mile?!" He rested his hands in his head. No one was ready for full out rebellion.

Young men started beating upon their drums, quickly followed by the sound of marching feet. The army was on the move. All from long ways away. Some were even Germanian.

"Reinforcements, sir!" The young man smartly saluted the General.

"Order a charge. I need to take that bloody town!"

The men affixed their bayonets and prepared.

* * *

"Sir, what should we do about Tarbes?"

Johnson peered down at a map of the country, thinking his plans over. "This is perfect, actually. I want you to go convince the Phantom to join us. Everyone has a price. I want more biplanes and airships pumped out. I want all troops to focus on that battlefield, the Tristianian army isn't that large anymore and they'll be focussing on it too. Have half the troops flank around them, cut off supply lines, and form a pincer, then we'll begin the end of this Rebellion. We're moving on the capital…for now make it seem like our forces are losing."

"Yessir! I will alert them at once!" The man ran off to the pigeon house.

Johnson flashed a broad grin at Louise, "this is it. The end is near, Louise!"

She returned the smile, "and everyone will have life liberty, and be able to pursue happiness, like in your world?"

"Yep…but let's not get too overconfident…the Tristianians have reportedly started using lever action rifles like in the Old West…" Louise pretended like she knew what an "Old West" was.

* * *

The German looked down the barrel of his Luger at the man before him. "How did you find me?"

"That's classified information." The man made it clear he wouldn't say more.

The German looked over at the automobile that the man had arrived in, "what does the Yankee want?"

"The General wishes you to join him in liberating this land."

The German thought about this for a couple seconds. "I'll join."

"Wait…what?"

"What, were you expecting me to want some money? Bah!"

"I…uh…yeah, actually…uh come this way, Mr. Phantom." The man gestured to his automobile.

"Call me Daniel." The German holstered his Luger, "tell your General that he has good timing, my small army of assassins were too incompetent and got themselves all killed." He shocked himself that he wasn't trying to trick these men. Of course to do so would be very bad for him. There was certainly more of them than of him.

* * *

"Hey, Sean?"

The young American looked over his shoulder to the small pink haired girl. "Yo, how's it going, Louise? The General got something new for me to do?"

"Yes, and uh…what are you making?" Louise glanced behind him at the strange cylinder he stood in front of.

"Oh this? Just trying my hand at jet propulsion…not very successfully. I'm a rocket scientist not an aerospace engineer. Wait no, technically I am an aerospace engineer…airplanes just aren't my field." He scratched the back of his head, "and building rockets takes a while."

"Oh. Uh, Johnson wants you to invent a better plane than those biplane things. He said to make one of the metal ones he's used to."

"Ah, yeah, we did that," he pointed to a hangar, "the engineers are producing a bunch right now. We also replicated that big Zeppelin. Tell him it's loaded with bombs and it's ready to drop them…oh also! We have chlorine gas now. Lots of chlorine gas."

"Okay." She flashed him a tiny smile before rushing off.

"Ugh…at this rate I'll never have the opportunity to fly an A-10 replica into combat…"

* * *

Both sides had lost hundreds with no sign of the numbers going down. Of course, the Rebels had managed to gain the upper hand purely by technological superiority.

The Tristanian army sat in waiting for the perfect opportunity to hit the Rebels with a trench raid.

An opportunity that never came.

Suddenly a mist seemed to fall upon the Tristianians. Everyone started coughing up blood and lung. It was so bad nobody could even do much more than collapse on the ground and hope for a quick ending to their suffering.

Then the surrounding area seemed to explode.

If the mist didn't kill them then the constant bombardment did. Still some managed to survive. Those that did witnessed the Rebels come in full force over No Man's Lands wearing some sort of cloth sack that seemed to protect them from the Mist.

The Rebels gained many miles that day.


	14. The end

The newspapers were going hysterical.

A good portion of the Tristianian military leaders had been assassinated over night, excluding a minor general, by the Phantom. On top of that, the Rebels now controlled everything outside of the Tristian City walls.

What seemed at first like the Battle of Tarbes had evolved into the Final Battle.

You see, the Rebels had been able to use a combination of gas, bombing and intense guerrilla tactics to quickly push their way to the city…but now they had run out of bombs and gas, and ammunition was running low.

* * *

"What should we do, American?" The German glanced across the map.

"It's quite simple really." The Yankee chuckled slightly. Louise knew this meant nothing good for the nobles. "You, me and Louise here, take a squad of maybe five guys and sneak into the palace, you confirmed that there were no guards after the major eliminations of the VIPs, and make our way to the MVP's chambers and capture her."

The German nodded his head, "I like it. Maybe you Yankees aren't so dumb after all, ja?" He chuckled at his own joke.

"Louise?" They all turned to her.

"Uh…I uh…sure…let's do it…"

* * *

 **The next morning.**

* * *

Getting to the castle was easy enough. The guards were stretched thin and it was fairly common for commoners to meet Henrietta. Who would've expected a group of cloaked farmers to be anything special…especially after talking to them. Their accents were quite perfect.

They all shed their cloaks in preference for dark grey uniforms, and followed Louise through the narrow halls. As confirmed, they were quite empty, and any guards they came across were easy to deal with…all you needed was an iron grip and a sharp blade.

Henrietta paced her chambers like she had done everyday for the past couple of years. At this point she wasn't surprised when a servant came through the door.

"What? Has that lead engineer, Lee, created a bomb that can destroy the world, but the Rebels already have ten?" She was surprised by how almost mocking her voice sounded.

"No, your Majesty, the Rebellion is over." The servant held a bit of fear in his voice that she didn't notice.

"Wait? Really?!" She was jumping for joy.

"Yes, your Majesty, we're victorious." This new voice was much deeper and held a strange accent that she could recognize anywhere.

"Sergeant Johnson?!" She rushed forward to hug him.

"I'm a general now your-" she hugged him so tight that all the air in his lungs got knocked out of him.

Then she saw a lock of pink hair.

"Oh my! Louise?!"

"Yes, your Majesty, I am here."

"Oh don't be so formal, we're friends!" The two hugged tightly.

The Phantom looked towards the Yankee. "She really does quite like hugging, ja?"

"Yeah, she could kill a man." They both chuckled at the joke.

"Who is this, Louise?" Henrietta had just noticed the Phantom.

"Oh, he is the Phantom, your Majest-"

"Henrietta. We are friends Louise."

"Uh yeah, Henrietta. He's quite a lovely man, if not hard to understand because of the accent."

"W-wait, did you say...t-this is the Phantom?" She backed away with fear.

"Oi, I won't hurt you unless General White here orders me to."

The Yankee shrugged, "if he harms you, I shoot him in the back of the head. Simple."

"Ja."

"Now then, your Majesty, come with us. We have something for you to do…"

* * *

Everyone watched in anticipation as Queen Henrietta of Tristian lead the group of Rebel soldiers and leaders onto a stage. She looked all around before speaking a word.

"Hello," she had to clear her throat, "I, Queen Henrietta, have something to announce. You may no longer refer to me as 'queen.' This country is no longer the kingdom of Tristian, but instead the New Tristian Republic. Power will be given to the people."

She tossed her crown into the crowd, "but out of pure necessity I will remain in power. For four more years. You may call me 'Madam President.' General Johnson White of the Rebellion has offered to be my Vice President," Louise had refused, she thought that that was too much power for her to handle. "I will now read something which Vice President White has made just for this occasion:

"We the people of the independent nation of the New Tristian Republic, in order to form a more perfect form of government, establish Justice, insure domestic Tranquility, provide for the common defense, promote the general Welfare, and secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our Posterity, do ordain and establish this Constitution for the New Tristian Republic…"

Johnson may have plagiarized a bit.

In the following year all remaining loyalists were rooted out and either imprisoned or executed depending on what they were willing to do. The NTR's military quickly expanded and improved after the German was established as General. The official Air Force was created with Sean Winters as Admiral, and the NTR cut off all outside connections and completely isolated itself.

Once the country was put back together a massive Industrial Revolution struck it. Factories started popping up and cities became even bigger, and taller. Roads were upgraded and automobiles replaced horses. Medicine became cheap and easy to produce.

Most importantly Sean decided to see if he could build a moon rocket.

* * *

 _ **To be continued…**_


End file.
